


Devotion

by Smolangryslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Body Worship, Devotion, Gellert is creepy, Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is hella bored, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mild torture, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Tomarry Big Bang 2019, War, artwork in chapter 4, but again not so badly, but later he is more like a babysitter, but not so bad, grindelwald wins, kinda failing, like for real, servant tom riddle, spoiler: the artwork is awesome, trying to write a gothic book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smolangryslytherin/pseuds/Smolangryslytherin
Summary: Tom Riddle was the perfect follower until the companion of their Leader started to appear in public. He changed all his life plans to ensure being with the mysterious wizard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT! I have never seen or read Fantastic Creatures and Where to Find Them, so don't expect anyone to have their original personality or even looks, this is mostly OC.  
Again; I apologize for my English, my native language is Spanish, so...  
I won't hold you any longer. Enjoy!

** _1947\. Vienna, Austria._ **

Since 1544 the magical Great Britain was rule by an unitary parliamentary democracy, called the Wizengamot, the chief warlock and the court would decide the solution of any controversy and the fate of those who broke any law. This, with the Ministry of Magic, especially the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would make the rules for all the magical beings in the territory, and ensure the safety of the citizens and the respect to their laws. But that wasn’t the case no more.

In 1934, for everyone’s shook, a European Force, formed by a large in number group of mostly wizards, took control of almost all the European continent, and it was forced to be administered by the German dark wizard, and Leader of the Greater Good: Gellert Grindelwald. 

His rule was under a simple law: wizards were greater than any other being, and the muggles were lesser creatures who didn't deserve even the blink of an eye. He made hard laws against the union of_ Purebloods _ with _ Half-bloods _ to ensure the reduction of _ Squibs _ in the magical world, still allowing it in some circumstances but frown over, assuring a union between _ Purebloods _was the only correct decision.

The International Statute of Secrecy was still being debated. The sympathizers of the Greater Good, especially the inner circle, were between conserving it, and getting rid of it. Eliminating the Secrecy meant that muggles had to be deal with, in an “unknown” way; the only two ideas that came with it was extermination or total submission. It had to, still, be a current topic in the congress with the Greater Good Leader, some of the followers unsure of the erasing of the statute that protected their world from the muggles. 

The Statute of Secrecy was broken by the Russian Empire in 1911, the results came in 1924 mostly positives, or at least that’s what they were informed by diplomats from the Soviet Union (formed in 1917), but the Leader wasn’t entirely convince by it. At the start of his campaign, before taking control, he, more than once, talked about how the Statute should be broken at once, but in 1939 he was chatting with his Russians and Bulgarians sympathizers, and came to the conclusion that some systems (political, economic, or social) didn’t work in every country or Union, and he was considering how it could affect, for good or bad, an Union as big as his, with so many ethnicities and differents way of seeing life. He, with the help of specialists in the field, were reuning once every two weeks to debate the Statute. The listeners agreed immediately with his thoughts, some of the politicals in the party, who weren’t entirely sure of his paper as Leader, nodding respectfully as if they were pleased. The Leader made a mental note of that, sure to bring it up when the moment was perfect. 

The law that changed everything, was implemented in 1945 stating that the wizards and witches had to pay complete submission to the Greater Good or face the consequences of acts against the Cause. For the first time, after Grindelwald took the power in the majority of the European territory, he was faced with an uproar, but it was dealt accordingly. For centuries now, people had perished for “freedom”, and other liberals ideas that started with the French Revolution and only took a firmly hold with the result of the revolution. Those crazy ideas that snatched the power that belonged to the King and Queen, a massacre made for a crazy idea. An idea that caused disaster and ruined the perfect system that governed the citizens of so many happy kingdoms for centuries. 

Many English pureblood families swore alliance, some more decided than others; the Light families, for instance, between clenched teeths, surrendered themselves to the Greater Good, but others didn’t, stating they won’t fight against their beliefs and rights as wizards and, most importantly, as humans.

Their saying “blood is blood”, resounded loud and clear in their executions, claiming that even muggles deserved to exist. And how weird did that sounded! 

They weren’t superiors just because their Leader told them that; they were directly blessed by the Goddess of Magic. A gift that wasn't to be taken like granted. The gift could have not born with them subduing them to a life of misery and uselessness.

It was imperative that they make their Great Leader proud, showing him the correct attitude for a wizard under a vindictive ruler. And their good behaviour always played well. 

They were gifted by their Great Leader the so called “Liberation Saturdays”. An afternoon filled with Operas in the Wiener Staatsoper in Vienna, after the execution of the rebels to de-stress and enjoy themselves with the magical gift of music.

Before their Leader was ruling they weren’t allowed to go to the theatre! An incredible injustice. The muggle war intervening with it from 1938 to 1945, giving them another example of how the muggles always ruined their days. On march 12 of 1945 the Opera house was devastated during a bombing, and the Great Leader was filled with joy instantly at getting exactly what he wanted; with a serious of complicating casting for a whole night, they ensured their belonging permanently for the Greater Good. It was completely rebuilt after placing the protection and anti-muggles charms in the old and majestic building. The first show to be performed was ‘The Marriage of Figaro’ surprising all wizards that knew the story behind the Opera, even if they stay quiet about their knowledge. It was followed by a series of Opera’s with extreme Liberal ideas. Many “intellectuals”, tried to link the ideology of their Leader to the Shows that he allowed to be performed, confusion always clear in their minds. Mozart, Beethoven, Bizet, Tchaikovsky, Salieri, Puccini Verdi, being the favourites to be play in the theatre, not all of them creators of Opera, but their common trait being their crazy debauchery ideals. 

The Opera house was something beautiful, its original colours red, gold and ivory were still used for the auditorium, the large central chandelier was replaced with a more ostentatious one, particularly bigger. The central box gave a spectacular view of the auditorium. Ludwig Morgkersdorff, a professor at the Academy of Fine Arts in Magical Austria, was awarded the privilege of completely redesigning the auditorium; leaving some of the original architecture, the new staircases leading to the former third floor gallery, all public coat rooms, and the intermission halls in the upper levels.

If you got an invitation, introducing yourself was almost unnecessary. They all knew each other, one way or another. From working in the defense, being part of the inner circle, or simply being a public figure that regularly represented and put a good name for the Cause. The people opened a space in the crowd to let the privileged passed by. There were different wizards in that group: Bulgarians, Italians, Yugoslavians, Russians, French, Greek, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, and English. The diversity on the clothing was not extremely severe, only variety in the thickness of the wool, and some Lord and heir, in the case of the English group. Armand Malfoy, tugging his son by the neck move him pass the others, a tall and lean boy following closely. They went towards the chamber.

It wasn't difficult to find their seats, as they were located in the middle row. Lord Malfoy scrunched his face at being next to the Diggory’s, that blasted Light family of Hufflepuffs that cried rivers when proclaiming their alliance to their Leader. He sends his son a piercing look as his Heir sat next to his ward, the blond boy in the verge of throwing another tantrum. Tom fights back a yawn. 

“I wish we had a better position in Master’s army. This seats are pathetic."

“That’s what worries you? Your problem with losing the ranking you had, is the seats of the Theatre?” 

“Of course!” Abraxas spits back at him not really considering what he just said, but still caught the sight of Tom rolling his eyes in return.

Tom shifted his gaze to his surroundings. The seat at his side taken by a sleeping wizard, their robes wrinkled. The wizard smelled weird, like some kind of strong earthy odor, but he didn’t pay mind. His weird perfume was making him slightly dizzy and giddy, though.

The auditorium was completely full, a sea of black robes, the only characteristics were the colour of skin or hair. He knew some of them, but didn’t have a good relationship with almost anyone, only those he managed to sweep into his pocket back in Hogwarts, mostly Slytherins, some Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuff.

The balcony just above his head was their Leader’s balcony. He felt anxious, fully knowing his eyes shouldn’t be trying to find anyone, much even less his Leader’s or anyone close to him. He just wanted to ogle him for a second, but his eyes catched something.

Grindelwald was majestic. He was tall, chest puffed out, proud of what he created, of his dream accomplished; his golden wavy blond hair reaching his shoulder and framing his tough looking face. He was wearing a black robe, with sapphire buttons, a white button-up shirt with a blue vest and black pants. Grindelwald smiles at the scenario, and bends to his right, to whisper at someone’s ear. 

Tom caught his breath, in the verge of choking. If he thought Grindelwald was good looking, the boy at his side was breathtaking. He was small, evidently short in comparison of their Leader, clad in light green robe, long dark black jet hair that went lower than his shoulders, maybe even to his middle back, a tanned skin that seemed to have been kissed by the sun, the colour of his skin made him remember so much of a flower, it looked so soft… He blinks when the boys nods at his leader and, suddenly, their eyes find each other, and he almost let the sound from the back of his throat escape at the shinning and alluring eyes. The oh-so-green eyes were looking hauntingly at him from above. Because that’s where a creature such as him belonged: above everyone, he even thought, a crazy thought he will never share with anyone, that Grindelwald should kneel at him, showing respect and not equal power.

He doesn’t look back, even knowing he should, his neck feeling hot, as if expecting hands to wrap around it for his outrageous attitude. If that beautiful creature was at the side of their Leader he surely belonged to him.

For a second he made different scenarios. In every scenario he was running away with the mysterious boy, far, far away, where no one could find them; another in which they were wrapped around themselves, lips meeting halfway softly as if it was something forbidden; him, in that balcony, with that boy at his arm, proudly showing off his prince. He wants to complain when the green eyes looks away, a small and fragile hand wrapping around their Leader’s arm. How much he wished he was in a nearby balcony, his eyes being at the same level of _ him _. At the same level. As equals.

“Tom!” He huffs in pain when Abraxas caught him with his elbow in the side. He turns with a sneer to look at the spoiled brat, just in time to miss the smirk in Grindelwald’s companion’s lips. “Aren’t you listening to me?” The pureblood growls. _ How plebeian _, he wants to say but abstains from doing so. “Even the bitch of Amelie has a balcony while I rot in this disgusting seat."

“Could you stop talking about that damn balcony?” Tom hisses, glaring Abraxas with the same intensity the blond had. Tom, swallowing his insults towards the Heir, sits straight in the backrest, fingertips caressing where the elbow hit him. It takes his whole will to look forwards, and not divert his eyes towards the balcony, his self-control and self-preservation fulfilling a great role in what seems an impossible task. 

The opera starts, making him sigh with relief as the lights turned down.

  


After the end of the opera, the Malfoys, as expected, walked/jogged to their Leader, with Tom following closely, waiting in line to get a word with him. There were only a few people expecting to talk with him, as only some of them were allowed to even be close. Tom wondered, why they expected for the Karkaroff to finish whatever they were mumbling about, why did their Leader liked to treat weirdly their followers. That made him mad as he one time read that treating people that way made you a boss, in charge of everyone, but not a leader. While in concepts they were the same, in the end, they were fairly different. He had a vision, and motivation, he could take risks and improve, but in the end you didn’t feel supported and he lacked empathy. A lot of the things he did were not following what he readed. He was angry that a library would allowed a book with wrong information stay there, pretending to be useful.

When Karkaroff left, they immediately bowed to show respect, their Leader deeming unnecessary their actions with a grave and deep laugh. They raised their heads slowly, Tom’s eyes still lowered in comparison to his Lord and Heir.

“That was magnificent, my Greater Good." Armando Malfoy praised, his tone sweetly sickening to Tom’s standards.

“Ah, thank you, Lord Malfoy. I do have to admit that the decision for today’s opera performance, and the majority, now that I’m admitting it, are picked by my gem."Their Leader smirks, his hand latching to the short boy’s arm at his side, who was looking at them with a serious expression maybe a bit warm.

He was more beautiful from close than far. The eyes that he merely notice were green, had a deep emerald tone, the almond eye shape making them look larger and innocent, but that cupid bow in the corner of his lip, and the arm of his Leader surrounding him gave away the truth.

“I can see that you are looking at my gem."

There was a dangerously vicious undertone that made Tom lower his gaze as soon as the first sillabe left his Leader’s mouth. 

“Don’t worry, young Malfoy ward,” their Leader laughs loudly, still with a careful tone, Tom raising his eyes slightly, enough to see him attracting the ‘gem’ closer. “My gem is a beautiful sight, isn’t he?”

He refrains from answering. A cold went down the back of his neck, making him shiver.

“My Emerald, this is Tom Riddle, ward of the Malfoy House." He introduces, Tom doing a pronunciated bow. Grindelwald tilts his head towards the gem. “Professors at Hogwarts said he was promising for a _ Half-blood _, and I wasn’t let down. Malfoy ward, this is my gem: Emerald. My advisor, Lieutenant, and companion." If it wasn’t for the permanent façade the Malfoy’s had with their Leader, they would have choke with the air, much o Tom’s amusement. That tiny, fragile, perfect looking boy was Gellert Grindelwald’s equal. Their Leider continued talking, his thumb caressing the boys shoulder, softly “My Gem is like my lucky amulet. I probably wouldn’t have seen my obvious demise if it weren’t for him." Their Greater Good bend a bit, his lips against Emerald’s tanned cheek. There was an ugly torn in his stomach at that picture. It looked wrong. It looked like something that was not meant to be. His eyes lower when his leader turns rapidly, a frown at the group in front of him. “As to forgive the Malfoy’s heir insolence. Oh, yes, I haven’t forgotten! What should we do with you…?” He didn’t need to be close to Abraxas to know the violent shiver that went down his spine. Tom was delighted to notice that the Gem was looking at the Malfoy’s, curious and smart eyes searching for a reaction in their necks; the only area where not even Tom could hide his true feelings. Fear, hesitancy, annoyance, uncomfort. You could know everything with that pulse in their softs and skinny necks. “I'll tell you this: there has been some harm surrounding my Gem. Rebels have deliberately tried to take him from me. You’ll come tomorrow to Numbergard, and we will decide what to do with you."

Abraxas immediately starts to exclaim his thanks to their Leader, but Tom stayed silent, watching profusely at the gem.

The boy, much to his surprise, was responding his gaze, not a single negative emotion dancing in them. Tom took in the shine of the eyes, that seemed to reflect a nonexistent light in the almost too dark corner of the room where they were standing. There was something unnatural about those eyes, but he wasn’t frightened, only attracted towards the magically dazzling eyes.

They said goodbye to their Leader, and didn’t raised their heads until the sound of the heavy steps stopped resounding near them. The silhouette of the Gem and a flirting gaze was the last thing he could see before they were swallow by the green flames of the floo. He promised himself to never forget that.

“What do you think he will make me do?” Abraxas asks, his voice trembling in the first word but recovering some confidence by the end of the phrase.

Tom stays quiet as his Lord assures Abraxas nothing bad will come of it. The job, clearly, had to do with the defense or protection of the gem. Did Abraxas had what was needed for this job? Absolutely not. Not even able to take care of himself without the help of his house elves and Tom, and now he was, suddenly, the ideal person to work as their Leader’s partner bodyguard? He holds in a sigh, wanting to be in Abraxas place more than ever.

He follows his Lord and Heir, towards the Floo. Abraxas left first. Lord Malfoy stepped forward before turning his head to Tom, his hand on the frame of the Floo. He stands straighter, trying to show a non-existent respect for his Lord.

“Thomas."

“Yes, my Lord?” he questions, not minding the rude tone he was taking with him, used to this treatment.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that boy."

“Pardon me, my Lord?”

He fully turns, his eyes glaring down at Tom, even when the height difference wasn’t much, the point to get cross was clear as day. Tom was less.

“You understood me."

“Yes, my Lord," he repeats, his tone sweet and soft.

He lets his Lord of House disappear through the Floo not letting his disappointment be seen by him. He glared at the coloured flames. A tiny rebel cell in his body started to shift side to side, waking up from a long slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really thankful for the kudos and comments, thank you so much! Hope that you like this chapter too! I have one last chapter already written, but it's going to be published maybe in 2 days, if I manage to finish it faster I will post sooner, but there's another fic that I have to go back to.

It wasn’t a secret that he was different from the others. It was there: as clear as day. While having the basics copied down, Tom Riddle didn’t behave like a normal human baby would on the majority of scenarios. While the others cried for attention, Tom stayed silent looking profusely at however was close, as if he was annoyed by their incompetence. And it wasn’t that we didn’t cry at all. Once, when a new wet-nurse came to the orphanage and she didn't immediately went for him he screamed loud enough to be the first being feed. When his mother gave birth to him, he immediately started to bawl loudly, alerting the matrons and nurses watching that he survived and killed his mother in the process. Almost lamenting. Almost.

His existence was a sensitive matter that caused the matrons an inconceivable fear. The newborn transmitted an eerie and odd feeling for those around him or in the vicinities of the property. The word “demon” resting on the tip of their tongues whenever they wanted to explain what was wrong with him, but they never left their mouths, knowing it was simply not possible, and an awful insult to even the queer kid.

Babies couldn’t be possessed by the evil! How could a vessel without a soul be a subject for a possession? Babies didn’t have their souls complete to charm the demon to take it. 

Even knowing how long it takes the soul to be formed, the couldn't avoid thinking about it. 

The other kids could sense something was wrong. Those who slept in the same room as little Tom Riddle would suddenly scream in the middle of the night as if a sudden wind came in the closed room; not a gentle breeze, more like a full-blown bone chilling wind. The other newborns would be left hungry, as baby Riddle will drink dry the wet nurse, leaving them without food to feed the other newborns. 

He was of a perfect size, even if a little bit fat, his cheeks always pink contrasting marvelously with his snow-white skin, his black hair and light brown eyes. 

As he grew up, they discovered that the fear they felt was understandable and not an ignorant superstition. 

The boy learned incredibly quickly, which was a plus for the orphanage, as the possibility of him leaving early was bigger and bigger each day that passed, but he could frighten anyone with just a look of his hollow eyes, or his vague smirk. 

Some of them would not get why they feared Riddle, while the fear was freezing them in their spot, some part of them would question why. When he turned 16 he was a little bit tall, yes, but not gigantic, the tallest he got was 6ft. He wasn’t musculous, only having some slight muscles whenever he came back from his boarding school but losing it by the end of the summer break. He wasn’t aggressive. He wasn’t loud. 

But even when he never started the fights or got physical with anyone, weird things happened around him, as if he made them happen. For more ridiculous that that sounded, it was still viable. Tom would always be blame about everything, even when he wasn’t at the building at the moment of the incident, but what was clear, even to those that didn’t like him, is that he was the subject of all the mistreatments of the kids. 

He was only 5 years old when the older boys locked him in the attic as he went to clean it. He stayed alone, with only the dark as his companion, for days, forgotten by everyone, not even trying to make a single sound in the hopes of anyone realizing where he was. When the matron found him, she didn’t say anything, but she could swear to the Lord of Heavens the boy had a diabolic glow surrounding him. In the next couple of days, the boys involved in the little joke were falling sick, and one of them never recovered. And it just got worse after that, ending with Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop returning from a summer outing speechless, absolutely frighten of whatever they saw Riddle do. The kids never returned to their normal selves. 

It was a survival thing. Their self-preservation made them learned to not mess up with Tom Riddle. Ever again.

Even if they feared him, all the people that knew him couldn’t Tom was a hard working student. He wanted to become something great, so, since he was 10 years old he decided that he needed to understand at least the basics of Law, Economy and History. So he studied whenever he could in the Library. They even let him take out books from it. You will always see him with a book on his lap or under his arm. 

For Tom’s luck he received a letter when he was 11, stating that he had a scholarship for some boarding school in Scotland. The matrons and orphans couldn’t understand how a dem… A bad person had such good luck. They were more than relieved when he disappear for almost a year and only came back for two months and a half, until he was 16 and they never saw him again.

In all those years, Tom learned how the world was like. And he hated it. He hated how he was treated in the orphanage, but he hated even more the magical world.

What he thought was an escape from an awful world, was slavery in another. 

The first year on Hogwarts, he thought he was a  _ Mudblood _ . He was ashamed of himself, of his blood, of his presence dirtying the school. He still had to show them he wasn’t a muggle. How could a muggle have magic? He was a wizard, just like them. Even if he couldn’t have a friend, he was not going to let them believe they were right about him. 

But when it happened… It was an accident. But a beautiful accident.

He just turned 12 when a 7th year Slytherin threw a venomous snake at him, the Slytherin thought he could get rid of him that easily, so he stopped the snake with a smug smirk. The entire common room was left speechless when the dangerous reptile was curled around his neck as docile as a puppy. That same night, when he showed his ability for the first time, his reputation change every so slightly. He, who was always proud of what he could do that the others couldn’t. They were impressed, the brilliant  _ Mudblood  _ was good as something else than just getting them points for the House Cup, but it wasn't enough. His blood wasn’t clean, it was dirty. Dirty like the black water then run down the sewer; dirty as the homeless man that lived close Bernie’s shop; dirty as the dog shite under someone’s boot. His blood was not what it was supposed to be. It was tainted with muggle’s DNA. He cringed at the use of a muggle term coming to his head to represent. They tried to wrapped their heads around the new… fact. That Slytherin’s heir was a dirty orphan  _ Mudblood _ .

He had to keep going, still. He needed to prove himself. 

So, obviously, he became the student with the highest grade in all of Hogwarts, thinking that if he was the number one he would have more opportunities. He loved the feeling of superiority at being used as an example of what you should be like as a student; he almost 

His eyes almost teared up when imagining himself in a proper job, having whatever he wanted, having a house and even a loving partner that waited for him to come back. That was all.

After the incident with Myrtle he thought everything was over, he saw himself in a cell, or in a Labor Reserve, only doing what his Leader wished. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the stiff body of the dead girl. He was not worried, only disturbed, as he saw them retiring the girl from the school. The authorities of the ministry staying for two more days after taking that oaf, Hagrid, with them, their investigations close. 

Tom was unconcerned, even as they gave him a price for “school services”, the suspicious eyes of Dumbledore would just follow him around wherever he went, always searching for a single mistake, for a slip where he could grab and But Dumbledore’s eyes follow him wherever he went, always fixed kin him, looking for something. 

Dumbledore was fired that year.

The Gryffindors were the only ones to cry about it for about 2 weeks, and forgetting about it after that. Their privileges disappearing as fast as Myrtle lost her life. In the blink of an eye Hogwarts changed.

The change was mostly uneventful, Tom, being a Head boy in his seventh year but with the 

Returning home without Dumbledore looking around anything he did, was glorious. He had free roam for his “club”, the Headmaster Dippet didn’t really paid attention to what happened in his school, unless it personally affected or broke a law. And, if no one saw you, it didn’t matter how many laws you broke. That was just how it was.

  1. **_ Diagon Alley_**

“I’m sorry, but we can’t give you the job”.

Tom’s overly large smile freezed on his face, as if someone had just pinch him with a needle on the arm. The corner of his mouth quivered for a second, as the owner of the library took with great satisfaction the humiliation he was giving to a muggle. And how lucky he was, as some Lords and their Heirs were gleefully watching the fun sight, probably satisfied with him for putting a lesser being in his place, while maintaining the decorum. 

Tom was not happy about it.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m perfectly qualify to get this job. My NEWT’s are…”

“Yes, yes, that’s great and all, but our policy doesn’t allow mudbloods to work here”. He jeered, making him jump in place. 

He wanted to stay, he wanted to curse him, and even wanted to yell, but the chatter in the background made him blush in place. He felt ashamed, as he was seconds away from doing exactly what everyone expected from a person of his class. Instead, with his head high, he smiles charmingly with a slight bow on his eyebrow.

“I understand, sir. Thank you for your time”. He leaves, not without seeing the roll of eyes of the owner, the employees snickering with their backs turned to him. He steps out of the store and quickly leaves the area, not stopping until he found a place to sit 5 minutes from the store. His heart was raising and his breath was agitated as if he just finished running laps around a quidditch field. 

His search for a job was unfructuous. As he expected since the start. He left Hogwarts only a month ago, with something similar to expectation, but every good job insisted on him being a  _ Pureblood  _ or having a special recommendation from their Leader that entitles him deserving of the job. And, in case of forgetting: he was a  _ Mudblood  _ and by that it meant he didn’t had any kind of contact with the Leader. 

His options kept narrowing time to time, at first he had some sort of hope. Even a job in a store at Diagon Alley could have been an option, even if it was far away form his initial goal. But… he didn't have anything.

He raged on the thought of his mother, and in how she ruined any kind of opportunity for him for the simple fact of reproducing with a lesser being. She dirtied the Great Slytherin’s blood with a muggle of all things!

Because of her, instead of working as an investigator, or in the Protection Squadron of the Greater Good, he only could dream on the Defense Force or a permanent estady with the Malfoys...

But as a servant. He couldn’t talk lowly of that job. A job was a job, but he wasn’t a servant! He wasn’t born to be a servant. He was the number one student of Hogwarts, a brilliant mind, one of the most powerful wizards since Merlin himself. Salazar Slytherin’s descendant. He wasn’t a servant.

He used to like Abraxas. He wasn’t going to consider him a friend, as what he wished to get didn’t allowed him to have bonds with anyone, but he was a great… classmate. When they were on Hogwarts the blond was always following him. Almost salivating at they thought of being near him, of being in the close circle of the Head Boy, at being “one of Riddle’s friend”, even if that blasted name made him cringe whenever it was brought. 

But now, things were different, and the people swooning near him, were not there, instead, they were in the top, knowing that their blood status was enough to be kept on the top of the food chain.

A food chain in which he was nothing more than rotten meat.

  
  


He gets to the Manor with his arms full with the many bags of clothes, perfumes and jewelry that Abraxas ordered him to get, leaving them carefully in the coffee table. Abraxas entered the room, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his new belongings. The blond rushes to the bags and started to rumash through them, that glint of greed and vanity that he didn’t like, in his pale aristocratic face.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He wants to choke himself with a chain as he says, with a force smile, “You don't need to call me that any longer, Abraxas.”

“Oh, yeah,” he doesn't miss how the tone went lower, a pitiless tone “they didn't accept your intent for getting your heirship. I apologize, Tom.”

He simply nods, the forced smile still plastered on his face. 

Standing next to Abraxas as the blond looked at his new posessions was a boring job he had to do several times in a month. The blond had an obsession with buying new thing that he didn’t need it, just… because. Would he be like that if he was in Abaraxas position? Would he greedily buy everything just for the idea of possessing new stuff? He doesn’t answer his own question perfectly knowing what was the answer. 

Several minutes later when Abraxas was clipping some golden butterfly on his hair while laying down on the couch, he calls his attention. 

“Tom, I want you to come with me to a party with the Lestranges. I asked and they were fine with the notice of you there.”

“I would love to go.”

“I'm sorry, Riddle,” they turned, Lord Malfoy was strutting inside the room, stopping next to a small table, getting the mail Tom got for them in the morning. Lord Malfoy had an evil grin on his face, “you won't be able to attend. I hope you don't resent that, but I need you here, fixing my papers, rejecting business ideas, and answering my correspondence.” He extends the several dozens of letters towards Tom. 

“... Of course, my Lord.”

“Father! I wanted to ask you something,” Abraxas says, narrowing eyes fix in him for a second as Lord and Heir leave a lowly tick behind them next to the bags he carried to the Manor. He stares at the bags, with an ugly grimace, his hand tightening a bit on the letters, but not enough to cause any damage. There was an ugly and painful feeling, as if he was being stab with an object, and nonexistent object, clearly, but still painful. He leaves the drawing room, turning at the other side from where his Lord and Heir went, towards the office Lord Malfoy gave him when he came. It was next to his bedroom, at the same time, next to the houselves room. He tried not to think about the connotations of that.

He opens the door, a breeze entering the small room making some of the papers on top of the table went flying, a parchment did a soft twirl outside through the window.

“Of course.” He mutters before rushing towards the window to watch where it landed. 

  1. ** Malfoy Manor, France**

He gritted his teeth and passed in front of the fireplace, waiting for Abraxas to get out of his bedroom. They were supposed to be with their Leader 10 minutes ago!

Lord Malfoy was not going to attend to Numbergard with them, as to show a busy life. Tom thought it only showed a rude behavior, leaving his supposed Leader in second place behind some paperwork and aristocratic bulshit. But who was him to speak? Nobody.

He finally caught his breath when Abraxas arrives at the drawing room. The boy only made him wait to change his green robe for a blue one. He probably should tell him that their Leader hated that designer for having Liberal ideas, but a malicious voice in the back of his head urged him not to. As if it would change everything; as if it would actually help his case as a lesser being. It was in a malicious and vengative undertone that he decided to shush. He can’t help to smirk, imagining the disgust in their Leader face if he saw Abraxas in those robes...

“What?” The blond stops mid step, the pleased smirk falling at the mock on Tom’s brown eyes.

Tom coughs, trying to stop the small laugh that threatened to leave his mouth. 

“Just thinking... is too colourful and extravagant to give a casual visit to our Leader. Especially to what started as a prison for The Greater Good.”

Abraxas visibly bristled at that, apparently caughting the “extra” and “flamboyant” that he implied. The blond lifts his head, as to look at him from above.

“You don’t have a saying in what I wear.” He spats before eyeing him. “You’re wearing servant clothes, so, why should you be allowed to say anything about my style?”

He bites his tongue to avoid answering anything. 

Abraxas seems pleased at it, before giving him a signal for him to follow. Tom goes first in the floo. He appears in an empty room, only filled with a couple of chairs at the sides as if it was a waiting room. He turns, and waits a couple of steps far from the fireplace, where Abraxas came at seconds later. The blond cleans himself and Tom with a twirl of his wand, before stepping out of the empty room, Tom following a couple of steps behind at a slower pace. 

“You are to be behind me, at all times.” He says as if he already didn’t know what to do. He still nods. “Our Leader will want to finish this fast, so:” he turns, and puts his lips in Tom’s cheek close to the ear growling: “Don't fuck it up.”

Tom swallows his disgust at the cercany of the Heir, but nods obediently. 

“Yes, my Heir.” He repeats. 

They start to walk across half of the castle, Abraxas leaded what Tom perceived as a maze of corridors, the majority of them vastly empty, some of them only filled with a couple of portraits, but mostly just the white paint of the walls and the wooden floor. After opening a door that took to the principal hall, they saw the difference, even though neither of them comment anything. The castle wasn’t how he remembered. Instead of the dark walls, you now could see white ones, the once dark wood floor was a textured white marble with golden details, pretty well lighten, with its huge windows open, the breeze swaying the red curtains. There were some sofas, armchairs and even coffee tables, instead of the empty room with uncomfortable wood chairs they once saw and imagined would still be there. Tom thought of the gem, trying to understand how a simple angel could get a change of heart big enough to affect the fucking decoration of the supposedly prison of the Greater Good. It wasn’t a palace, or in no way like the Malfoy Manor, but it had a charm to it, something that cleared up to him that this wasn’t his Leader’s arrangement idea but of a more gentle soul. 

Tom focus on the people. All the wizards in it were wearing red clothes, something a little bit chilling to see. Tom, darkly thinks if it was to avoid the stains, as the red was crimson, it could cover pretty well the stains of the blood in the fabric, not like his dark blue uniform, with silver details and the Malfoy crest in left side of his chest. You could violently dismember someone without fearing for the stains, but he doubted they would use barbaric and more satisfying means to end a  _ Mudblood’s  _ life. Many curses and dark spells popped into his mind: cutting, severing, blood-heating, choking. Ways to end lifes without dirtying your own hands with the mud of their veins, but enjoying their slow painful path to it.

Abraxas murmurs something to the more pompous wizard he seemed to find, before continuing towards another door at the right side of the big stairs, Tom following closely, wondering how did they change the structure of the whole building in a matter of months. 

They walk through a long well lighten corridor. After taking left they appear in front of a big oak double door guarded by two strong muscular wizards.

“I have a meeting with our great leader. I'm the Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy from Great Britain”. 

They share an unimpressed look before opening it. 

They entered a less fancy but still luxurious room. The walls here were the known colour of dark varnished wood, as it used to be the central Hall of Numengard, but the floor was a clear creamy colour wood. The windows were also opened, covered with blue, also opened and tied up, curtains, letting a soft breeze and light enter the room. The feeling of being caught, of being retain from liberty… not there. It had their Leader desk, filled with parchment and stacks of books, close to a window with a comfortable looking red armchair. The room was covered with maps, different maps with lines of couple of colours: red, blue and yellow being the most present in them, even though Tom caught a brown there. Where there weren’t maps, the rest was covered by big wooden bookcases filled till the last space, in a corner there were another dozens of books meticoulis arrange in piles. 

He finally leads his eyes towards the couple sat in the middle, his stare barely stopping at their shoulders. Their Leader was sitting at a big armchair that Tom would like to call throne even when it was clearly used as an armchair. He has to bite his tongue, rather hardly this time, to stop the hopeful sight at seeing the gem next to their Leader, sitting with crossed legs on a smaller but more puffy and soft looking red armchair. The boy was wearing a deliciously perfectly fit white robe with a low neck, showing off his bony collarbones, Tom’s mouth wish to kiss the, maybe even bite playfully that skin. He, against his better judgement, let his eyes a little bit up, to see his hair tied up in a red string falling over his shoulder, to the open book in his lap.

“My Leader.” Abraxas kneels in front of him, any sight of the so-painfully-obvious tries to look royal, undone in a second. Tom smiles a bit, noticing the disgust of their Leader curling a lip at Abraxas, clearly recognizing the work of the designer. And it wasn’t difficult; Imogene Louvert, had a distinctive style for her clothes, especially the way she played with soft, pale colours, with different fabrics in a same work. Abraxas, with his tight baby blue robes, with silver details, and the distinctive high neck with black laces was something that never fail to be in a Imogene work. The blond, sadly, wasn’t aware of his Leader rejection at the choice of clothes. “I am so grateful of being here.”

“Heir Malfoy. Mister Riddle.” 

Tom’s eyes blink repeatedly times until they focus on his Leader again. The last time he heard that title being referred to him was in the muggle world, where everyone thought he was equal at least to the low social class. By law, he wasn’t allowed to have a title like it. He was not to be acknowledge, as mudbloods had no part in the magical world. His mouth quivers a second but he bows down, to cover his happiness and relieved at being recognized. 

Abraxas seemed equally surprised, his big blue, almost grey, eyes open widely with some sort of uneasiness, but still manages to recover before it was too obvious.

“My Leader. I came as soon as I could. Your wish is my command.”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you wish me to do, my Leader? I'm at your orders, my Leader.”

He was still surprise that their Leader was allowing him a second chance. His offense far greater than he expected from someone so devoted. Being drunk was not an excuse for any behaviour.

“Your behaviour was... regretful.”

“I know, my Leader. And I greatly regret my behaviour. I don't want you to think the Malfoy family disgrace its name.”

“But you did.” He states. It wasn’t just any comment. It was an statement, much to Tom’s amusement and Abraxas dread.

“It- it was a mistake.”

“Well… In that case…”

He stands up, the gem closing the book in silence, his emerald green eyes lifting up a bit. Tom wants to think of the shadow under his lip as a pout. He redirects his eyes to the floor when those haunting eyes met with his.

“I’ll give you a second and last chance, Heir Malfoy.”

“Oh, my Leader…!”

“I wasn’t finished.” Abraxas shuts his mouth. “You'll be protecting my gem. You will be with him every morning, following him around, as he can do what he pleases. You will NOT control him. You will NOT annoy him. And, more importantly,” he lowers the time of his voice a tad, getting closer to the blond. Tom barely manages to retain a gasp when Abraxas was lifted by his neck with their Leader's magic. The  blond choking, at the verge of tears, his feets fidgeting in the air, “you will not touch him. Understood?”

He nods before carelessly being dropped limply to the floor, where he stayed trying to recover his breath. Tom looks at the gem. The boy was simply fixing himself on the chair, not interested on what was happening in front of him, but he did seemed displeased by the noise. Their Leader appeared to have notice the gem annoyance, as he sat back down, his tone lowering, a pale hand resting in the angel’s leg. 

“Good.You’ll be in a probation period for now. And Mr. Riddle.” He averts his eyes to his Leader chest, as he walks towards him. Tom tries to stay calm as his Leader stops a couple of steps from him “You, on the other hand, will be serving here, in the protection service of the Greater Good.”

There is a long minute of silence. Tom was… He doesn’t let a single tray of emotion leave his being. For more surprise than he was, it was dangerous to let anyone know how pleased he feels. What if they take it out? He was ecstatic! He wasn’t going to have a simple job in the Defense, no, it was The Protection Squad. He, a mudblood, was going to be part of his Leader personal defense. 

He thanks with a deep bow, worried that if he let too much out they laughed at him.

“Oh, stop that, Mr. Riddle. Now, please, leave this room, return to the principal hall, turn left and open the seventh door.”

He bows once more, before retiring. The men at the door don’t even spare him a glance as he leaves alone.  _ Perhaps they already know _ , he thinks excited,  _ they know I was part of that, our Leader told them and they don’t want me to lose any more time. _ He keeps walking, until there is an opportunity to turn, so he turns left, blinking at the sight of the several small oak doors. He stops in front of a door, the seventh one, and clears his throat as he knocks. 

In the door appears a jovial and young looking blond boy, his breath agitated and something white on his shoulder running down his light red, almost a pinkish tone, robes. 

“Who are you?” The boy asks when Tom stays silent.

“Tom Riddle.” He announces, finally taking his eyes off the dirty… water of the others body. He tilts his head upwards, a satisfied smile. “Our Leader order me to come here. I’m a new part of the Protection service of the Greater Good.”

This makes the boy sigh heavily, his hand resting on his chest, as if he just received the best news in his entire life.

“Oh, Lord! This is the best notice ever! We have a new baby here but we are not enough people! Or you can work on the barn, instead, we are also short there. Is your choice.”

… Baby?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. Finally updated this, And also going to update Deathly Green Eyes as soon as I finish one scene and add what I want to add. This is the third chapter, and from now on it'll only go downhill from now on. Btw if you CAN PLEASE HELP ME, LIKE I NEED A BETA, cause I thought that my Beta for the Tomarry Big Bang was still going to appear, yeah no, they never did it, so ayuda??? If you can, tell me in the comments and leave your Tumblr so I can send you my email, cause tumblr always fails me, or send me a private msg in tumblr... Does ao3 have DMs???  
I have to say that being part of the Big Bang was interesting. Having a deadline helped me to write faster, this was finished like days ago but there were some things that needed some... transition? No, like a bridge? Yeah, ok, I'll leave.

  1. ** Nurmengard.**

At the beginning, Tom was pissed off. What person in their clear mind wouldn’t be? He was expecting to finally work on something he deserved, on a position of respect, but his Leader had better plans for him: being their laughing stock.

He moans, hitting his head against the wooden wall, the Hippogriff he was combing looking curiously. How humiliating! Why didn’t he learned for once and forever that this was all he could do?! There was nothing better for him than to clean shit and brush someone’s hair? Or something’s hair. With the abilities he had he was stuck in useless jobs for the rest of his life, so for a second he thought that maybe his Leader had realized how necessary he could be 

But he let his hopes fly too high…

He tries to let every vicious thought out of his head, trying to focus on the positive points of the new scenario:

  1. He was immensely happier in his new job. He was treated with the most respect he could expect with his blood status, and even got to see his Leader every friday and enjoy at least half of the gatherings organized for the followers and enthusiast of the Cause.
  2. He was close to sweet talk his Leader enough to get a hold on his Heirship, something that might change his life completely. Or get him a proper last name, minimum. 
  3. He didn’t have to stand Abraxas and his spoiled ass.

But he was still just a servant. A lowly servant at that. Nothing more than a shit-cleaner.

His robes were now red, a vibrant red, far from the crimson red he liked that much, were a prove that he was massively better than the other mudbloods. In his chest the mark of his leader, the triangle with a circle and a lime that cross it was in black at his left side, something radiating from it. He, more than once, would examine the mark at night in the loneliness of his room. He would sit in his bed in the dark, and observe the mark; it was a triangle with a circle inside crossed in the middle by a line. It was his sign. But what was going on with it? He had yet to discover it. 

Even when he was curious about the mark, he didn’t put a lot of though on it, just at night, each day was always as busy as the last one, so he didn’t have time to lose. His station demanded a lot of attention, without mentioning how many times he had to help in the “little” parties their Leader throws. Those parties were pretty uneventful, but it didn’t make them boring. If he was invited he would have made so many connections, as a lot of important wizards tend to attend, but he didn’t dare to catch the attention of anyone with his blood status. He knew how they thought about them, and how the guests and the Defense of the Greater Good acted towards them. 

Once a _ Mudblood _ was spotted, even if he tried to go unnoticed. The guards cornered him fairly quickly, the Mudblood lowered his head, tears filling his eyes. Tom takes a good look of bim. He was not tan like his angel, but burned. As if he spent hours no end under the sun without a sun-protection potion on his skin. He had extremely damaged muddy brown hair, but pretty brown eyes. Eyes with a striking resemblance to someone, but he couldn’t quite caught who he looked like. Maybe it wasn’t the eyes _ per se _, but what they told. He was dressed in brown robes, a disgusting brown. He thought it fitted perfectly with his blood. 

One of the guards ordered to stop the music and, at once, the sound of the band stopped. Some of the guests, his Leader and the gem looking up from the armchairs they were cuddle in. He doesn't let the fire rage grow, at the sight of the gem’s head resting on their Leader’s chest. They look at the Guard and the Mudblood with mixed reactions. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen. I know that you didn’t came here for an execution, but you were simply lucky enough.” The guests cheered as the _ Mudblood _was tossed to the ground. Tom turns to look at his Leader and his pleased face, but his eyes run to the gem. His angel was looking with what everyone could believe was disinterest, but Tom knew better; he was a master on that. His angel was disgusted. And that confused him. Why would he be disgusted? Why would someone hate seeing a mudblood be treated how they deserve?

He laughs gleefully as the Guard hits the _ Mudblood _ with a _ Crucio _ , the _ Mudblood _ writhed on the floor, screaming loudly; it only took a minute before the mudblood started to ask to be killed. Tom wanted to keep enjoying the show, gleefully looking the _ Mudblood _ contort in the floor, but his eyes found the gem and he froze.

The gem was looking in his direction from his Leader’s lap. He turns around, trying to find the real source of his eyes wandering so close to his position, but it was him. The Gem was looking at him! Unconsciously his chest puffs up, but the boy just shakes his head and looks down. He tries to be more careful as his Leader turns towards the gem, his hand caressing a cheek before it being violently swatted away. He saw them argue for a minute before the Gem stopped, his face contorts in disappointment; the emerald colour darkening. Gem seemed to spit something particularly vicious at his Leader, before getting up from his spot in his Leader’s lap, and bolting out of the room towards the stairs not turning to look back. Tom was left mute at it, not having seen before someone talk to his Leader in that way, even less leaving him with the words in his mouth. He, on the other hand, seemed equally as surprise. He seemed to be searching for something in the party, before grabbing a laughing Guard at his left, who instantly froze in fear, Leader growled in his ear and retired from the party with a quick step. 

The Guard who was growled at, stopped the torture at once. While the red-coats watched the remains of the _ Mudblood _, Tom stared at the area where Gem went. 

That was the last time he saw Gem. Weeks have passed since that odd moment and his leader didn’t seemed to be over it at all. He had a foul mood wherever he went, his face always forced into a snarl, grey eyes piercing through everyone. During that time their Leader was incredible sensible about it. At the minor mistake he would just punish anyone. He was moody, violent and murderous. 

He learned to stay as far away from the castle as possible, preferring to spend his whole day with the magical creatures, not even bothering to lend a hand in the other sections unless he was commanded to. It takes an unnatural amount of strength to admit, in his head, never aloud, that he made a mistake not picking Care of Magical Creatures as one of his electives, not in exchange of an elective but with them; while cleaning their space, even with magic, was disgusting, he learned that he likes to pass time with them, and even talk to them. It took him two days before realizing that magical creatures, just like snakes liked to be talked to. They had some human trait in them, that, when talked to as a person, started to have some human traits. They started to move, react and even communicate with him, even thought they couldn't talk. He wasn’t going to lie, it was impressive and even heartwarming how the most dangerous creatures of the barn got some sort of liking towards Tom. Calming them down was an easy job when he had a pacific relationship of provider-pet with them, but now that he thought of them as more than just pets his job was better. 

Besides that, he did have to help in the kitchens occasionally, the workers there being mostly _ Half-bloods _ and a _ Pureblood _that looked wrongly at their Leader once. The kitchens were located pretty far away from the principal hall and, even thought it was always with people, it wasn’t the most cramped place in the entire castle. Between the lowly servants and the loyal followers, there were around, approximately, two hundred people in the area at all times, not counting the visitors.

The babies, toddlers and children were the more prominent of them; more than half of the usual population in the area were the new generation of the Greater Good. They were taught since they were born to follow the laws and beliefs of the Greater Good, from reciting the two hundred and fifty coexistence rules, to singing the hymn of the Greater Good; they were also taught magic theory and history since they had use of reason. Kids now knew, at their 8 small years, more than 14 years olds knew at Hogwarts. Tom knew very well they were raised, as he personally went once. In theory he wasn’t allowed to enter the conditioning area of the Greater Good unless he had an explicit permission from the upper side, but in a night when the Leader was in a particular good mood (he tried to ignore where it came from, assuming that his gem had something to do with it), he granted Tom the opportunity to visit the establishment, which he immediately thanked. 

It was a huge surprise when he knew that, what he at first believed to be the space for the baby care, was actually just a nurse station for the sick kids, more than their actual space. The child care wasn’t in the castle but 3 kilometers away from it, on top of a mountain. The building was tall, at least 3 stories, without counting the many possible basements, a feature that their Great Leader was known for adding to his buildings for the convenience of it. It was completely grey; stones of different sizes and shapes decorating the walls of the outside of the building, big rectangle windows reflecting the sunlight almost violently towards them, dazzling them. The path towards the double oak doors of the building was a stone path with some of the greenest grass Tom was ever seen, clearly fake or magically colored as to make it more vibrant, maybe to charm the kids.

The director of the Protection Squad of The Greater Good opened the door for him. The sound of laughter, cries and loud chatting was the first that hit them as they entered the now . They entered a spacious and open room, with the sunlight shining through the big ceiling to mid-wall windows very brightly, just as outside. A dozen of light-red robed people, with slick-back hair, were found entertaining small and skinny kids in a corner, signing a song that Tom knew pretty well.

_ “Flag high, ranks closed,” he _ e murmurs in a soft voice while the kids sang loudly, clapping with the entertainers. _ “Lift your wand against the undesirables.” _That song was a nightmare for him, seeing as the first time he heard it he committed the mistake of saying that it didn’t rhyme. Two weeks of detention just for his “cheek”.

“I can see that even the mudbloods were taught correctly.” The director snickers, his voice only loud enough for Tom to hear it.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, ignoring the insult, “Hogwarts is pretty well known for its great education.” He doesn’t completely believe his statement, as he knew that the ranking of Europe only didn’t put it first but in fourth place... Of fours schools.

“Great?” The director barks a laugh, walking outside of the room, with Tom following closely. “Hogwarts is a second class school! Durmstrang is the right option”.

“It wasn’t always like that.” He says with hesitation. They walk down an empty white hallway, barely decorated with photos and some flags. Tom eyes at the closed doors.

“Why would you care about the past?”

“Because I’m unable to change my past.”

“Haven’t you ever listened to our leader? The past is unimportant, you can only…”

_ “… Be aware of the dreadful things that used to happen to wizards, to change it in our new world for a better Wizarding History. No more complaining, it’s time to make it,” _he recites in a monotone. “I know, I had to repeat it every afternoon since I started my first year at Hogwarts.”

“Then you should apply it.” He growls, shutting Tom down for a second. They stay silent, the director seemingly annoyed by Tom’s questioning and non-conformism, but he couldn’t be less concern. He follows outside of the building, the backyard wasn’t empty, as Tom expected in a sunny day, but they weren’t playing. He was startled by a sudden yell from the white haired woman, dressed in a black uniform. 

“What are they doing there?” He asks, fearing another backlash.

“That’s their military class. We start to teach them the basics when they are five. The younger they are, the easier it is to teach them to obey. Our Great Leader believes that they should be even younger, which, naturally, I agree with. It could be so easy:” He lowers his tone, something like fear in his gray eyes. “One single idea, outside of the mold, and they’ll be following an antisocial; a rebel... That’s unacceptable. We HAVE to teach them the right way. They have to follow without questioning.”

Tom hesitates, once again, but, this time he refrains to ask. _ What about those that aren’t raised here, like me? How can you help us fit in, when we weren’t raised with this way of thinking and have to slowly create this mindset? _

The woman screams something, the kids answering with a yell, hooking their right hand in their left wrist, their right foot stomping forwards. She yelled something different, the kids returning to the previous position, with both legs straight one beside the other, and their hands resting in their hips, face lift upwards, as the woman paced slowly next to them, checking every single kid, with a slap in their arm to know who was actually using strength to maintain their arms in place, those who lost the arm placement sighed, as the woman pointed away, the kids quickly going towards a running field, starting to make laps around it.

“Is incredible,” he mutters half-heartedly.

“Oh, yes. Our Leader has worked restlessly for this. He has the best people running the child care with special psychological work since their birth. Considering that they’re rescued since their birth, we make them know that our Great Leader is their creator and protector, ensuring their wellbeing makes them react in the correct way. They are expected to learn fast their duties and rights and be absolutely grateful to our Leader.” Tom wanted to agree with it, but the first part startled him out of his knockers. He wants to stop himself, but still end up asking. 

“Mothers just let their kids be taken?” He was not surprise. Mothers have always appeared weak to him, their kids didn’t seemed to have significance besides the approval of the others families. His mother being the best example.

The director looks at him as if he just slapped someone without any context. 

“Taken? They are alive because of the Greater Good. The mothers have to be satisfied with their lives, and even proud for their collaboration with our world. Where would they be if it wasn’t for out Great Leader? They’ll probably be rotting away in a corner.” 

Tom, once again stays silent, knowing that, whatever he said, would probably kill him, even if he partly agreed with the director. The rest of the visit was silent from Tom’s side, he followed the director to the second and third stories of the building where they located classrooms, libraries, and potions rooms. Tom still stared after the only door that stayed close, wishing nothing more than to take a look of the closed room, but kept following the director around. The sun was setting down when the tour ended. 

“So, you can find your way home,” the director laughs and apparatus away. Tom sighs looking around, and starting to walk back to the building. 

  
  


He was carrying a sack of potatoes to the kitchen, when a couple of running kids stumbled with him. He winced when he felt directly on his bent arm, with a piercing pain in his wrist. 

“I’m sorry, sir!” Tom lifts his eyes, hugging his wrist to his chest, a serious face falling in his pained expression. There was a little kid, with copper hair and black eyes looking sorrowfully at him. “I didn’t meant to make you in pain!” There was a clear slur in his tongue, signaling that he had an accent.

“It’s-”

“Don’t apologize! He is a mudblood!” Tom shuts his mouth at the hiss. 

The three boys were looking down at him, their faces changing to one of disgust less for the kid.

“He is not! His clothes are red, not mud!”

“Yeaaah, but my daddy told me that he is a mudblood, so he is!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“Yes it does! It means that he is a mudblood!

“Your dad is a liar then, because his clothes are red!”

He stands up, leaving the kids fighting in the living room. Eyes were on him as he hurried down the hallway to the kitchen carrying the potatoes with his face burn in flames. The people in the kitchen shared a look when he entered before focusing back on their own work. Tom sighs, and goes to his station.

  


It was saturday, only a month and 3 days since he started to work in the supposedly Protection Squad for the Greater Good. Oh, how much he laughs at that ridiculous name. The people that was part of this were only glorified babysitters and zoo handlers. He didn’t see how that name fit the actual work you had to do. Yes, the caretakers (babysitters), were raising the new generations, but how did he actually deserve that name? He took care of XXXXX rated creatures. He had to clean their space, feed them, and just ensure they didn’t die or kill each other; the creatures, he learned later on, were kept for two separate reasons. Principally they were needed on different researches (what were they researching? He still didn’t knew.), and the other reason, like always, because Gem wanted them. 

His mind always ended up in the gem, and it was maddening him not seeing him. Every night when he went to sleep his mind was filled with his face, it was making him go crazy. There had to be a spell on him, courtesy from the gem, but why would he do it? what could he possibly get from Tom? He had nothing to offer, nothing to be taken from him, so what did he wanted? 

“Tom?” A voice wakes him from his reverie. He lowers the box of raw meat enough to see Raphael standing in the archway, his chestnut hair shorter than the last time he saw him, and light red robes.

“Yeah?” He lets down the box of meat, grabbing a couple of them an feeding the Hippogriffs. Just for an internal laugh, he throws the meat at the last one, who looked at the falling food but made no attempt to catch it. He huffed a laugh as he picks it up and feeds the creature; this Hippogriff was named Dorian, and was the most spoiled creature Tom has ever met, and in that list was included Freya, the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. He returns his focus to Raphael at a cough. “What?” 

“Our Leader wants to see you.” He nods, not showing his surprise. He slaps a piece of meat in Raphael’s hand. “What?” The boy asks with disgust.

“Feed them, is their lunch time.”

“This is not my job!” He visible calms at Tom’s serious face. “Fine…”

Tom hurries his way to the castle, it takes him a second to realize he didn’t ask where their Leader was located. He takes off the dragonhide leather gloves, and saves them in his pocket. 

“Tom Riddle?” Two Guards were leaning on a wood pillar, two equally amused faces.

“Yes.”

“Our Leader is waiting for you in a private studio in the second floor. Go fast, maybe you can save that useless Malfoy boy.” 

  


He opens the door without knocking, as the guardians on the door were apparently gloating on something, his steps faltering at the puddle of blood in the middle of the room, with a whining Abraxas lying in it.

His Leader was standing next to the broken _ Pureblood _, breathing rapidly, grey eyes out of focus. His eyes fall on the gem next to his Leader, standing really close to him, one arm wrapped around their Leader’s arm, the other one rubbing up his arm, trying to appease him. He takes his eyes of the gem fast, returning his focus on his Leader. He was looking down at him, his stare was as sharp as a knife.

“Mr. Riddle. The Malfoy’s have a last chance to redeem themselves, but, this time, it’s going to fall in your hands. Are you going to follow my orders, or would you, like this excuse of a wizard, do whatever you please?” He spat the words, his german accent stronger than ever. Gem press his body closer, lips muttering something against his cheek, his Leader face softening a bit, even though his eyes were fiercely on Tom, waiting a response.

“I’m at your service.”

“You’ll be gem’s protector.” He gets closer, his tone lowering dangerously. “If you so much do something out of line, the Malfoy lineage is over, and you’ll go where the mudbloods actually belong.” 

His whole body was shivering, the raw dark magic power irradiating from his Leader was nothing to ignore. He didn’t meant to, but fell on his knees dirting them in the blood that was under his feets. His eyes were focused on his Leader, not noticing the pleased face on the gem’s face. He doesn’t belong with the mudbloods, he wasn’t a mudblood! His blood wasn’t entirely pure, but it had a good lineage. How could an idiot ruin everything so badly that ends with him having to accept an unjust fate?

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, my Leader.” He fully bows, his forehead directly in the floor, just far away enough to not dirty his nose in the blood. If he had look up he would have notice Gem’s smile.

“I’m glad that you think like that, because you didn’t have any other choice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post as soon as I can, but I went back to playing tennis so I only have a couple of hours free.
> 
> Hope you liked it :)
> 
> Tumblr: smolangryslytherin


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy for the artwork! And for finally finishing this infuriating chapter.

This awesome picture was made by [cannibalinc ](https://cannibalinc.tumblr.com/post/188051574681/cannibalinc-gems-are-silent-my-last-submission) (hope I did the url thing alright) for the Tomarry Big Bang and I'm so happy!!!!! Are you seeing it????!!!!! Is awesome wth! <3

\-----------------------------------

His new job was as simple as day. He would wake up at the same hour, get ready and wait outside of the door that went to the Gem’s room. The doors will unlock at a certain hour, when he would walk inside to wait for the Gem to be ready to go down to get breakfast. After that he would just make sure that not any kind of danger was looming over Gem until lunch, and the same process till dinner.

The problem, well, that was not the correct word that he would like to use in the condition he was in, the… Complication came about his fantasies with Gem. He was expecting some incredible, jaw-dropping routine, filled with so many secrets, emotions and adventures. 

But it wasn’t real. The first day after breakfast, he stayed three hours and a half next to Gem, who was only looking out of the open window in his room. He still crossed his fingers, thinking that the danger and excitement would come later; that the Gem would surprise him doing something unexpected. 

At dinner he sat next to Gem in the big empty table in the private dining room. Gem was moving the food around with the fork, every now and then taking a small bite of food to his mouth. Their Leader was nowhere to be seen, neither appearing at breakfast or lunch, one servant saying that he was extremely busy with some paperwork. Tom knew that excuse enough to feel slightly excited; maybe his relationship with Gem was falling apart and he just wanted to excuse himself as much as possible. He tries to read something on Gem’s face, but he didn’t show anything. Face blank as a canvas before the artist decided to paint in it. Not even amusing or mockingness on the face, nor something hidden for him to find. Just boredom. 

Following him back to the library wasn’t a surprise to Tom. He was beginning to understand how the mechanic with Gem worked. He would silently follow the man, eyes fixed on the Gem’s back, intently looking at the curves that the loose and thin wool created on Gem’s back and hips. Tom closes the door after himself, Gem already slouched on the sofa next to the desk full with books with covers he couldn't’ read without obviously pryvying. He lowers his eyes back to the floor when he feels Gem’s, almost accusatory, gaze. 

Weeks passed, and Tom was still waiting, but Gem didn’t do anything amazement. Yes, he was mouthwatering, but he wasn’t the powerful and regal angel he wished he was. He liked to slouch, he was lazy, quiet, and uninteresting. 

He did like how sometimes Gem preferred to wear long silky robes, long-sleeves shirts under vests and slacks, or sweaters, pants and fluffy socks. He saw the many hairstyles the precious gem invented, even to tie his hair up in a scarf when he couldn’t find anything else. He saw the many faces of the Gem, and with that he meant… not much. There was not a lot to see, as Gem didn’t expressed anything. Anything! Tom has been bored before, many times, but has never met anyone who he liked but still bored him so badly. 

When he woke up that day, he decided to try to change something. The previous night he realized that maybe he needed to make a bigger effort. By 6:30 he was ready, mentally preparing himself to incite a conversation with Gem, and crossing Gem’s door at 7. He stopped at the look of a disheveled Gem, with tear tracks on his cheeks. He lowers his face, and closes the door. Gem breath was loud enough for him to hear at a far distance. He didn’t raised his head, not even when Gem stood up. He did looked up at the sound of fabric falling. Gem was only in red shorts, his back towards him, letting him watch his bronzed skin, before covering it with a black thick sweater. He saw him walk without pants till the double door closet and get out of the closet in black slacks. He, contrary to other days, let his hair down, not even brushing it.

His anxiousness appeared when he was about to talk. What should he call him? This has never been clarified. The tip of his tongue wanted to roll in a delicious “my Gem” but he wasn’t, in any way, authorized to even speak a word, much less to say what he wanted to say.

“Sir, do you need assistance with anything?” Empty green eyes searched his, but no words were exchange. 

Minutes later, Gem sits on the floor to tie his shoelaces. It took him two minutes, but after putting them he leaded the way to the dining room rather slowly, with Tom following closely. He hurries his steps to open the door for Gem, but he walked past it, causing Tom to jog. He was confused, but followed Gem inside the kitchen, were the workers were freezed observing the man of their Leader. They dismissed themselves when he sits on the kitchen isle, face lowered and covered by his long hair. Tom turns at a knock, Raphael carrying a silver tray with Gem’s breakfast. 

Tom places it infront of Gem. No words exchange

  
  


The rest of the day went slower than usual, as Gem did nothing but sleep, look out of windows and sigh in different corners of the castle. A pitiful sight. 

Tom passively let Gem mop around, still as close as his shadow. He wasn’t expecting an explanation but was surely interest in one. What could affect Gem so badly for him to be this way? Did something actually happened between Gem and the Leader? Did he do something to Gem? He felt uneasy only imagining scenarios with Gem suffering.

Gem sat on the table, arms crossed almost like a petulant children, glaring at his plate of food. Tom jumped when he suddenly stood up, they start to leave when a voice stop them. 

A group of servants were having their back towards them fixing changing the photos and some of the trinkets on the shelves, while maintaining a conversation with loud whispers.

“... I don’t think that. They can’t be harmed.” One, kneel besides a wooden box says, passing the frame to a redhead woman, who nods.

“They have to be harmed.” A woman with a strong accent responds. “Our Leader went to see if he could fix the mess and save some of them.”

“That’s why he left?”

“Well,” the only man in the group started to say, an amused tone on his drawly voice,“there’s a rumour, that you-know-who did something that he didn’t liked, and he is looking for a way to get rid of the whore. That explains his behaviour.”

“I’m not sure…”

“I am. I mean, it’s easy to imagine. Our Leader got bored of his plaything, now he needs a way to escape.” The woman snickered. 

“Maybe he is too much trouble. Look how much he has done for the little bitch, and maybe he is still complaining about everything. The other day I saw him talk back to our Leader, but instead of accepting the whining he just moved him from his lap and left him there.”

“Why would he fight? His life is perfect. Only has to bend over to get everyth-” His sudden piercing scream startled them, a photo of their Leader slipping from his hands, the glass crashing on the floor. 

They look what was behind them, faces paling at the sight of Gem, the man that was hit with the curse holding his arm pitifully. Tom’s interest woke up from its boredom, eyes greedily following Gem strut out of the castle. 

Guardians were standing next to the archway that went to the back of the building, the looked up, and were about to stop them until their eyes fell on Gem’s expression, letting him go out without even a look. Tom was trying to catch Gem’s eyes, without walking at his side. Gem walked straight for a couple of minutes, he didn’t know how many, and then turned left. They cross an archway made out of bushes, and Tom felt speechless. In front of them was a garden, a very green one, he had never seen so many tones of that colour before; bushes of roses around a fountain of a marble angel with eyes made of, what he thought, were turquoises. He still focused on the path they took, flanked by tall trees that gave them shade as they slowly walked down. The sky was scarily blue, no clouds at the view.

“Is eerie, isn’t it?”

Tom has to force himself to not react violently. The sound, even if it made sense, came from Gem. It wasn’t soft. It was a dead and flat voice, not like he imagined. He expected a sweet voice, that resemble something holy, but it was just… Average. 

Gem walks slowly down the path of polished rocks, Tom walking a step behind. 

“It always scares me how perfect things look here, compared to how life is. A couple of kilometers from here people are being killed, and villages are being raided. But here? Here we have this view. Gellert did this so I could get a distraction, before the rebels tried to raid it.” Gem did a sound of protest that was more of a growl, resuming the walking.“I haven't been here in… so long, that I forgot how it looked. I hate it.”

He refrained from pointing the obvious. _ He is doing all of these for you, so you can be happy. Why worry about what’s happening outside? _Gem stopping in front of big white gazebo, surrounded by lilies.

“You like them? They are my favourite flower”. His voice changes to a softer one. More like he imagined Gem’s voice. He peeks at his face, the once fierce frown left, replaced for a peaceful expression, that very fast changed again.

“Gellert wanted to indulge me with them seeing that I was being a good boy. You know, standing by his side, smiling prettily. Not talking”. Tom has to blink to keep on with Gem’s mood, nodding to make him feel listened, even if the man wasn’t looking in his direction, instead fingers caressed a lily mumbling a melancholic tune. He tries to recognize the melody, but it didn’t ring any bells. 

Gem sighs. “I’m bored.” He doesn’t answer. “I’m bored.” Gem repeats a little bit louder, eyes fixing back on Tom, who still stays silent. “Come on, I know you are bored too. If you could do anything right now, anything at all, what would you do?”

He is unsure of the appropriate answer to the question. If he could do anything he would be doing Gem, but that certainly wasn’t what he was asking. 

“I don’t know… Sir.” The face Gem gave him was a mixture between incredulity and amusement.

“Sir? You actually called me sir?” He wanted to mention that he did it already once before lunch, but refrains from doing so.

“You are my master’s companion. So, that’s a respectable title.”

“Companion… Hmmm…”

“You also dislike that title.” He states. 

“Yes.”

His hands involuntarily go to Gem, and return back down, as he impulses himself to sit on the rail of the gazebo. If Gem notices, he doesn’t say anything, kicking his legs.

“Why haven’t you taken me to do something? You can even take my hand and drag me somewhere if that helps.” 

How would it feel to touch his skin? Would it be soft as the lilies petal they were surrounded by, or like silk? Or would he be disappointed? He tries to shake off the desire to press Gem to himself.

“I’m not allowed to.” His response is met with a loud laugh.

“You are… Oh, Lord! That’s the most boring response I have ever heard. Well, today.”

Tom looks at him in silence. Gem is grinning at him. 

“So… Are we doing anything?”

“I… Like what?”

Gem smiles widely.

“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” He asks coyly.

“...” Tom has to remember to recover his breath. “I don’t know my… Liege?”

“God dammit with all of you.” He hears Gem mutter. “Call me Harry. Please. Just Harry. Not Gem, not Emerald, not sir, nor any other stupid name. My name is Harry. H-A-R-R-Y. Ha-rry.”

Harry. Such a common name. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I… I’m not allowed to have this kind of informality towards you, my...”

“Oh, please! I basically beg Gellert to let you be my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Right, my ‘guardian’. Is the exact same thing. But if you feel uncomfortable I will call you… No, I’ll call you Tom.”

“I…”

“That’s your name, isn’t it? I’ll call you Tom, and you’ll call me Harry. If you want I can make it an order, so you’ll have to follow.”

He doesn’t know where to look, if at Gem-Harry’s eyes, or at the floor. His interest picking back again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't follow me on tumblr (which.. you should lol) I didn't knew what was the name of a gazebo. i thought it was called a chapel, and when google showed me pictures of temples I knew it wasn't called a chapel so I was like "oh, so a kazoo?" A KAZOOOOOO I THOUGHT THAT A GAZEBO WAS CALLED A KAZOO. Can you believe I'm 19 and in college? I should be smart, but certainly I'm not
> 
> tumblr: smolangryslytherin


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have't had time of anything! My lord, college is going to eventually kill me. Didn't edit, just published as soon as I wrote the last paragraphs.   
I WILL EDIT THIS CHAPTER AND RE-POST IT when I have time lol

It takes days for Tom to decide to talk more freely with Harry. Their conversation merely surrounding topics about the weather, their likes and dislikes, trying slowly to make the transition to acquaintances. He tested the ground he was walking in before bolting towards his goal, patiently waiting for them to be close enough. 

The change from “Gem” to plain “Harry” was difficult, his mind still supplied him with fantasies of the green eye man every time he was alone or even in his company. His fantasy would start perfectly, Harry with his bright green eyes filled with tears of desire, motioning him to get closer... and then he would open his mind and say something stupid.

Because real Harry wasn’t Dream Harry, nor Gem. Real Harry was interesting, goofy and almost bubbly, always making sure that he was comfortable and amused. But what surely separated Harry from Gem was his peculiarity. 

Harry likes to talk about almost anything. He would always make sure that Tom was comfortable whenever they went, and always tried to make him participate in their conversation.  _ If I wanted someone to hear me without answering, I’ll just talk to the animals. I mean they are better listeners that anyone else, but I need answers. _

Tom was grateful that Harry liked animals much more than he did, because he got to be surrounded by his beautiful creatures again. Dorian, being Harry’s biggest fan, quickly accepted his intent for caresses and asked to be ride every time they went to the estables; Harry liked Dorian just the same, insisting on calling him Buckbeak, no matter how much Tom tried to assure him that that wasn’t his name.

“He looks like Buckbeak.” He defended himself with a frown, and, even if he would never admit it, a pout. 

“Who is Buckbeak?”

“He is Buckbeak.” Harry says, comically gesturing at Dorian.

“Where? Behind Dorian?”

Hair went everywhere as he threw his head back, barking a laugh. Tom felt proud for being the one to cause that laugh, he was pleased to be funny for Harry.

They play around with Dorian a bit more, Tom cleaning his area, while Harry gave him kisses on the forehead and pat him on the head. They kept walking around the animals, Harry interest falling back on the Griffin, Cesar, a couple of stables from Dorian’s. 

“What’s his name?”

“Cesar.” He raises an eyebrow when Harry snorted.

“Why only people’s names?”

“People’s names?”

“Yeah, they should have something... creative, you know?”

“Oh, really like how?”

“Like…” He looked at Cesar. The white Griffith stared back at Harry, fuzzing for not having the strange boy give him more caresses. Harry, on his opinion, was way too invested in finding a creative name. “White...streak. Whitestreak.” His face contorted in doubt.

“That’s stupid.”

“As soon as I said it, I regretted it.” Harry laughed,getting out of the barn, Cesar fuzzing louder, almost whining as he saw the man show him his back. 

Tom chose to leave the area alone, even though it needed a good cleaning, not wanting to dirty himself anymore. This wasn’t his job anymore, even if he was interested in the wellbeing of his animals, his job wasn’t it. His eyes followed Harry when the man entered the area of the Nifflers, and slowly backed off.

“They usually nap at this hour.” Tom says, in a low voice.

They kept walking, arms brushing every now and then, causing Tom to tense every time it happened, Harry’s reaction to the contact wasn’t really obvious, eyes cast forward, not looking back at him. He wanted to know what he thought. If he was disgusted, indifferent, or something else. His eyes, unfortunately, didn’t betray him. 

They went back to Harry’s quarters, staying this time in a sitting room that they usually dismissed for anything less than the afternoon tea; the man sat in his chair, waiting patiently for Tom to bring the kettle of boiling water that appeared in a table, just as they entered the room. Tom put a plate and an empty cup in front of Harry, whose eyes were following every movement. 

“Gellert brought me a lotus tea, I want to try it.” He nods, going towards the cupboard and opening it. An intricate box took his attention fairly fast. It was golden and pink, and extremely ridiculous. He returns to the table with the box, opening it. The smell of the Lotus was a pleasant fruity smell, not too sweet. 

He puts one flower in Harry’s cup, and with a movement of his hand he box returned to the cupboard, the door closing after it. 

They stay silent as Tom brings cakes, and cookies to the table.

“Can I get some sandwiches?”

“Of course, my… Harry.” He still had trouble to call him Harry when he asked for something; his very soul almost begging him to be polite, but knew that Harry disliked it. Tom goes to the little kitchen that was in the quarter, opening the cooling cupboard, and closing it. He finally found the bread, and started to make the sandwich under Harry’s eyes.

The minute of silence almost pushed Tom to say something, even if he didn’t knew what to say, but Harry, again, beat him to it.

“Abraxas mentioned that he turned down a job in the Ministry. At least for the time being.”

“Yes, they offered him a position in the Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Why did he turned it down?” 

“I don’t know.”

“And how did he got it? He’s not dumb but…” Tom understood.

“His father works there, or I think he does. I’m not 100% sure.”

“Hmmm, well, even if he works there it wouldn’t mean anything, would it? Gellert is the one in control isn’t he?”

“Yes, but work is work. The Malfoys don’t have any necessity for money, is more about them having a position that represent power.”

“Power…” Harry mutters, something like amusement in his voice. “Even so, he is underqualified.”

“He had a severe advantage.”

“Which is?”

“He is a pureblood from a wealthy and loyal family. He gets priority.” He lifts the kettle carefully.

“Just for his blood?”

Tom freezes for a second, barely remembering to keep pouring the tea on Harry’s empty cup. Both of them watching how the Lotus petals opened when it came to contact with the water.

“Clearly.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” His strength on the kettle flangers, almost dropping it. Harry makes a movement to stop the falling object but Tom shakes his head, leaving the kettle aside.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s fine, is not broken, merely chipped, besides is easy to fix them.” With a movement of his hand, the kettle was perfectly fine again.

“Yeah, I know.” A sudden wave of rage fills him, as what he imagine became real. Gem was a spy to discover if Tom was loyal or a deserter. “I’m happy with my position in the Cause.”

“Why?”

“This is what I’m meant to be, what I’m useful for, and I’m happy for making a change, even if slightly, in our Society.”

“You think you were born to serve me tea and cookies?” Harry asks biting into the sandwich.

“I’m meant to serve my superiors.”

Harry humms… disappointed?

“Why are you asking me this?” He finally asks, maybe a bit snappy.

“Because I feel that someone as smart as you shouldn’t be stuck being my babysitter.”

Tom flushes red.

“I… Thank you.” Harry smiles behind his cup, sipping his tea.

“You don’t need to thank me. Is the truth.”

“I still appreciate that you deem me… worthy.”

“Worthy of my compliment or worthy of my company?”

“Both.”

“My company is no price, Tom.” He is bound to disagree. Harry’s company has been lovely, even with all the nonsensical stuff. 

“You shouldn’t think of you like that. You are a” the adjectives lovely, sweet and lustful popped in his mind, “great wizard.”

“Why thank you, my dear Tom.”

“But… I have a question.”

“Shoot. I meant talk.” He adds when Tom didn’t understood.

“Why am I your guardian?” He refused to call himself babysitter.

“You seemed interesting.”

“Why happened to Abraxas?” He asks after a moment when Harry didn’t seem to want to explain more.

“He was awful. He was rude, dumb and racist. I couldn’t stand him.”

“Oh…” 

“I prefer you a hundred times.”

“But why?”

“Because we can talk and you can listen. Would you imagine what would happened if I said what I said to him?” 

_ Harry in a fine white robe, pointed by wand directly to his temple, then a green light… _

“Yes.”

“Gellert would be mad at me, and he is annoying when mad. He will just frown at me and be angry for weeks. Even remove someone innocent.”

He knew that with removed he didn’t meant of his job. His mind wrapped around that idea, imagining what i’ll be to be a priority, for his name to come first than any other

“How...?”  _ Did you got to be his partner? _ He wanted to ask the differents believes the too big to ignore

“How do I know? Well, I just do.”

He takes the option to change of topic pacifically. All this talking was making him dizzy.

“What would you like to do today?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I don’t feel like doing anything.”

“Then I’ll let you rest…”

“No.”

A hand wrapped around his wrist cold long too boney fingers as he was making his way to leave. 

“Stay, let’s talk.” The cold against his flushed skin was pleasant.

“... About what?”

“You decide it can be whatever you would like.”

He sits again, eyes moving around the room looking for a topic, whatever. His desperation for Harry to like him was maybe palpable in the air. He had so many question, yet they weren’t close enough to ask what he wanted to ask. He goes back an hour, when Harry was with his animals.

“Why do you like animals so much?” He smiles at Tom, a tiny smile, merely a lift of the corner of his pink lips.

“Well, they are great. I had a prof-friend who had so many animals. From Hippogriffs to even get a Dragon egg and nurture him for many months. He loved them, he lived for them. I remember when…” He stopped.

“Yes?”

“His friend. He was a creature, he died and made this funeral for him. I went and I let him cry on my shoulder as they buried him. They were friends for more than 40 years.”

He never felt that deep to the animals, but instead of being as amused as he would have years ago, he understood and respected that.

“How did he die?”

“Both died of old age.”

“What was your friend’s name?”

“Robert.” He stammered. “He is the reason why I call Buckbeak, Buckbeak.”

“Yes, well, Dorian didn’t do anything for you to be se cruel.” Harry laughs.

“Does it really bother you that I call him Buckbeak?”   
“No. It doesn’t. You can call him whatever you’ll like.”

Harry smile was playful.

“I had an owl. She was snow white, smart and so so beautiful. She was my first friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I lived with my cousin and uncles. I was their cleaning-boy. I did the cleaning, all the meals and was supposed to be nothing more than a ghost. They hated me my cousin made sure that nobody talk to me or were even polite to me. I got her when I was 11, and just loved her since the moment I saw her. She would be there for me always. Once they harmed her and I just lost it. I threatened to end who did it.”

“What happened with her?”

“She was killed.” He says blankly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. They shot a killing curse at me but she blocked it. I… I saw her fall immobile in front of me.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“It’s fine. Is been years since that.”

“How long?” Harry pretends to haven’t heard it. “Why haven’t you gotten another pet then.”

“I can’t get another friend. I don’t know what’ll happen if they die again.”

“Isn’t that a terribly depressing mindset?” He asks, remembering when Lucretia asked him something similar.

“You are right. But I don’t feel like I’m ready. I have you as my friend, but I don’t believe I can find anyone else. I just can’t imagine replacing Hedwig.”

He nodded. Harry’s eyes weren’t lost, sad, not angry, they were just empty. He wanted to get closer and comfort him, but his fear of punishment made him retreat before he gave the first step. 

His burning want was still present, but something new appeared: the necessity of becoming Harry’s friend. What else could he be? What was hiding under that beautiful mask? What other stories could the man tell him? 

“You are very different from what I expected.”

He blinks at the smile, just realizing he actually said it. Harry’s face morphed into friendliness, and relieved. 

“I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you read a tomarry rockyhorrorshow!Au? If you won't I don't care, I'm still going to write it as soon as I have time lol


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back so yeah, hi, hope you're doing well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha...Haha... ha... I'm back? Yep. I wrote this last year till the beginning of the party, but got annoyed of myself and had to pay more attention to university but because of the coronavirus I had to come back to writing. I'm not really happy with some parts of the story BUT I LISTENED TO PHANTOM OF THE OPERA LAST WEEK AND THIS WEEK LOVE NEVER DIES AND I NEED TO GET MY HEAD AWAY FROM THE SONGS, please help, I'm obsessed with Beneath a Moonless Night :(

Weeks passed, they got closer and closer by the minute. Harry even felt comfortable to tell him some of his friends stories. He almost felt like he personally knew Ronald, Hermione and the twins, even if he didn’t have their surnames, they were now interesting characters in every of his stories; Remus and Sirius were also present every now and then, even if with a little bit of resentment in his voice, he thought of them as the piece that was left on Harry’s life. Many other names were now ingrained on his mind: Molly, Arthur, Tonks. The “Moody” lad was frightening to think about. Someone with a magical eye who could, very probably, know what you were thinking and feeling? He was scarier than anyone else. When Harry started to speak, with a smile on his face, about the redheaded brothers and only sister (whom he completely forgot the names except for Ronald), he felt jealous. Would Harry someday talk about him in such a fond manner? Or would he despised him how he did with the blond lad? 

_ “We became friends after a long time, it took us years before I realized that I had a weird crush on him.” He laughs, cutting a dead leaf from the bouquet, fondly looking at it.  _

_ “How so?” _

_ “We were almost enemies since we were 11 till we were 18, one day he was invited to a family dinner, he and his mom. It was uncomfortable, we all felt weird. This was the guy who for years was a blood supremacist, but there he was: sitting on the same table as us, people who had never care for it. He apologized to everyone, and just… I felt so warm. I mean, it wasn't’ exactly his fault, was it? He was raised like that, no kid ever would be that way if it wasn’t somewhat stuck into his head. His mom, well… She wasn’t rude, but, again, is the families fault, it always is.” _

_ “I don’t know.” He had always believed that blood had an effect on the wizard, so talking wasn’t the smartest idea. _

_ “We became acquaintances, and after months we were friends.” _

_ “But were you two together?” _

_ Harry blushed, hair falling to cover it. “Not really. We kissed once, and it felt great, but he was to get married.” _

_ “You…” _

_ “I didn’t knew when we kissed, not even he knew. Suddenly his mother appeared with a marriage contract and he had to accept.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Because his mom said so. He has always been a mommy’s boy.” His voice was neutral but his fist were tight, even when he didn’t showered in it, there was resentment. “We broke... whatever we had, and I went to his wedding. She was a good woman.” _

_ He nods, fingers aching to grab his hand, but got a hold on himself with difficulty. There was something that didn’t fit on the story. He prepared himself to ask the question that he had made several times. A question that no matter how much he tried, wasn’t answered. Getting a wider glance on Harry’s life was precious, but it wasn’t enough.  _

_ He needed more, more explanations, more trust on himself from Harry’s side. He clears his throat, obtaining Harry’s immediate attention.  _

_ “But when did you met Gellert? You look as if you have only 20 years, when did all of this happened?” He asked, but never got an answer to that. Just a sad smile on a blank face. _

“Where is the Astronomy book I was reading yesterday?” Harry asks suddenly, waking Tom up from his reverie. 

He looks around, finding the red leather book in one of the tables next to the shelves, he picks it up and returns to Harry holding the book an appropriate distance from him. Harry smiled in return, taking it from him, fingers brushing for an instance. He takes in the smile, relishing in the pretty curve of Harry’s lips. 

“Thank you, Tom.”

He rests on the chair next to him, who was almost draped on the sofa. 

Harry sighs, turning the page lazily. 

“I wish we could be outside, I’m so bored.” He mutters, fluttering his eyelashes towards Tom, whose heart fluttered in response. He swallows saliva, grateful that his voice didn’t faltered when he spoke.

“Our Leader said we couldn’t go out until this afternoon.” 

Harry wasn’t pleased with his answer. The previous warm, slipping faster than a blink. His eyes hided by the hair that went over his face in a childish response. He knows that Harry wanted him to indulge him in his wishes, but there was nothing he could do; what else does he want more than to let Harry do whatever his heart sang, but he didn’t withhold any power for it to happen. 

Minutes pass and Tom starts to sense something else was going on with their keeping on the castle. He tilts his head, wishing to caught a glimpse of Harry’s expression, but his hair was in the way. 

“Harry?”

“...” He stays silent. 

“Harry.” The man acknowledges him with empty eyes, but he knew that there was some sadness or regret on the green pools of his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to follow the orders, and you know it.” Harry nods, looking disappointed. He was starting to hate seeing Harry disappointed on him being a mudblood, of his blood interfering on their plans. 

The door opens, making them jump; Hadrian sits straight fast, face blank of emotion. A guardian, dressed on the brightest red clothes he had ever seen someone wear from all the Cause, steps in, bows slightly and claims that his presence is needed downstairs. Harry, unexpectedly, just stand up and walks next to Tom who was already making the way towards the door, patiently waiting Harry to get to his side. He was happy to indulge Harry in his ‘Gem’ character; he walked slowly, almost in a sultry way, face perfectly straight, not lowered or raised, eyes softly narrow, lacking is usual warm and shine. He was glad he doesn’t have to deal with him anymore, as Gem was incredibly boring and maybe to stuck on himself. ‘Why do you like to be Gem so much?’ he once asked Harry, who smirked in return. ‘Is acting. Acting is fun. Making everyone believe I’m someone I’m not, there’s something interesting about it.’ He didn't answer at the moment of the admittance, but there was something in it that made him feel queer. 

They turn on a corner, stopping suddenly. Their Leader was in front of them, a big smirk teasing their luck. Tom, slyly, moves a couple of steps behind Harry, an appropriate distance separating them without ‘compromising’ his job as a guardian. He still can’t see the rebels trying again to harm Gem but doesn’t question his Leader, like a good follower. 

Gem, because is Gem not Harry at the moment, looks at their Leader with something more than just an absent emotion. He can barely see, only the way his mouth and face tensed from his profile. 

“Gellert.” The voice is soft, paused, elegant and… “Welcome home.” Monotone. It lacked affection or even acknowledgement. He lowers his head when his Leader looked at him, eyes dark and unforgiven.

“Mr. Riddle, please leave us.” He doesn’t want to, but his feet moved by themself with no hesitation. 

  
  


“My love.” He whispers, kissing him. Harry shivers, it was too much. He indulges Gellert, half enjoying the feeling of arms surrounding him, and lips devouring him. “You are in one of your moods, aren’t you, my sweet?” He teases because of the reaction he had when he saw him. He stays silent, letting Gellert press him to the wall. Fingers caressing his arms, a lascive smirk. His hands move from his arms to his waist, engulfing him in an intimate hug, hands everywhere with greediness. He wants to move away from the kiss that follow: hot, hard and demanding. He felt lightheaded as Gellert pulled apart enough to look in his eyes. “Your surprise will be tomorrow.”

He wants to ask, to demand explanation, but does nothing more than to nod. Glassy green eyes meeting blue satisfied ones. 

“... I’ll leave again. I just wanted to see you.” He nods, trying to form a smile, but it was an useless case.  _ What’s he hiding from me?  _ There was hesitance in the next kiss, as if he wanted to say what was happening, but chose to let it to himself. 

“Alright.” 

  
  


“What happened?” He asks Harry as he strolled back to the library, were they decided to hide for now. Harry shrugs, sitting next to him eyes fixed on him. He gets warmer, tries to push up his chest sneakily, as he asks, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

There’s a second of lingering, a dangerous want emanating from Tom that, he was completely sure, was obvious to Harry. He waited to see what was his response, not taunting his luck of having Harry’s thigh press to his. He wants to rest his hand on his leg, to press his lips on his skin. 

“I…” Harry shakes his head, letting a sad smile paint on his face. “Nothing. Could we go out now?” 

He has to say no, but Harry’s eyes… He bites his lip, but nods.

“Just… We can’t be seen.” He says, enjoying Harry’s excitement. “And we need to be as far away from them as possible. If they are close to your gazebo, we return.”  _ If we are seen, we are fucked. _

He snorts at the gazebo part, Harry knows that Gellert would never let anyone near that place, but nods. He knew how much trouble Tom could get into, but he needed this. He needed to be with him elsewhere before the surprise. 

Tom forces him to change into something dark, stating that maybe if they move through shadows they could get there. Harry just follows, wanting to leave. He puts on a black robe, with equally black shoes, and, as to try something, grabs Tom’s hand and fastens his steps, ignoring the fear that came from his action. They manage to move to the exit of the castle without encountering anyone _ , they must be too busy fixing my surprise, _ he thinks to himself. 

He wants to get there, so, surprising Tom, he just runs away towards the entrance of his garden, laughing as he crossed it, with Tom not too far away.

“My Gem, don’t do that!” He is pleased with the nickname; unlike Gellert, Tom saying it sended something down his spine. 

“Oh, calm down, Tom. Let’s go.” He starts walking, a jump on his steps, Tom following closely. It takes them 10 minutes to get there, but they finally make it to the lake. It was odd, he thinks, just how big his garden is now. At first it was just a bush of roses, but it was expanded a thousand of times until he finally was satisfied with the size and the content. He had a gazebo, a fountain, a lake, and so many types of flowers and trees. He thought of it as his little paradise. He sits in the border of the lake, and looks up, only satisfied when Tom followed suitly, wincing at his robes getting dirty. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” He asks, trying to ignore the thought of his clothes getting dirty. Harry shrugs, getting a small stone and throwing it to the lake, not trying to do the bounces, just wanted the still lake to move. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think I want to talk.”

He nods. He wants to add that the reason why they were outside

They stayed silent for what seemed hours but in reality were only a couple of minutes, Harry suddenly laying back on the grass, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

“If I were to leave, would you come with me?” He stiffs, body freezing.

“What do you mean?” Green eyes open to look at him, softly returning his stare. 

“If I left, would you come with me?” 

“...”

“Tom?”

“I will, but you can’t.” He blinks when Harry frisks.

“Can’t? Can’t what?” 

“Leave. You are our Leader’s… companion. You can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because he says so?! Am I not allowed to leave if I wish?! Do you think I don’t have a vote or an option?!” He was almost screaming, face red like a Rosa, his eyes darker from rage. “All of you…” He stops, takes a deep breath calming his erratic breath, the colour leaving slowly, dark forest green returning to emerald green. “It’s fine. It IS just a question.”

He touched a topic that was clearly sensible to Harry, but he didn’t knew how to fix it. He says a low “sorry” wishing to be more help, but what could he do? Lie? He was the only reason why their Leader hadn’t gone and just vanish half population, why Tom was working as a normal pureblood wizard instead of a mudblood in a Labor Camp. Harry was indispensable, he couldn’t go, and he knew that his Leader would never let him go. He wanted him, sure, but he was nothing next to his Leader. Harry was everything. 

Looking to his side, he finds Harry’s hand resting innocently close to him, a mere space from his leg; he stares at it, in wonder. When he looks up, two piercing emeralds were watching him silently. He shivers when he smiled, cutting the space between them.

The closeness was intoxicating: he tried not to pick on the sweet smell depraved by it. Harry closeness, his warm, the pretty tan colour of his skin… He was captivating, but dangerous, he could be the death of him if he wished to. And he knew it. Oh, he was convinced that he knew the effect he had on Tom; the effect he had on everyone. He had to know what his eyes caused on the world what he caused on Tom. 

“We can’t.” Harry turned red but nodded, lowering his head. Shame washing over him. Tom had to give himself a mental pat on the shoulder at his show of persistence and control. of Harry, but it was futile; he tried to avert his eyes, but they were stick like glue on the orbs. 

Harry smiled, getting closer to him, but his smile falls when a hand on his shoulder started to push him away softly.

“Harry.” Is all Tom needs to say, the warning barely heard on his voice, as they both knew what they were thinking about.

Or at least Tom felt that the message was communicated, but didn’t have a death wish to ask if what he felt was there

  
  
  


“Where are we going?” Harry asks, looking around. He was hugging Gellert’s arm, walking down an uneven path in the night, latching into what he thought was safety as his feets tumbled on the pathway. He wasn’t in any way scared, just confuse.

Tom and he were reading when the guardians came in and, in a frightening tone for Tom, asked them to follow. Harry had made them lower the tone, remember who he was, but complied; Gellert had been standing on the waltzing room, his rich green robes matching Harry’s eyes, something that he resented, and with softness took Harry’s hand in his and apparated him without a word. His heart raced on his chest, being in the darkness next to the Dark Lord, alone. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t see Tom anywhere, as he looked directly into his lover’s eyes, the gray eyes had nothing but a playful shine in them. He forced himself to stay immobile as some pops surrounded them. The guardians had apparated and Tom was also there. It was a relief. 

He looks back, capturing Tom’s dark robes, needing to make sure that he was still there. Still following. And not in a trench or in a hole on the ground.

“It’s a surprise.” Gellert murmurs sweetly, Harry’s hand tightening.

They kept walking on the barely illuminated path, the guardians flanked at each side, Tom a couple of steps behind. Harry had to admit, that the scenery was beautiful, even though, he could barely see. He was enthralled by the night sky, the many, probably artificial stars on the black firmamentum, another one that looked artificial. His mouth curved down, wanting to cry at how fabricated was his life here, but still latched his eyes on it, on the thousands and thousand of lighting orbs, so lost in it, that when he looked back the enormous palace made his mouth fall open.

“Versailles?” He mutters, unsure. Gellert just laughs under his breath. They keep on the slow pace, Harry’s attention on everything around as to ignore the stare of Gellert. 

They enter the palace, moving directly to one of the salons, and Harry’s mind was in awe, there were small sculptures made of bronze on tables and big-scale ones resting on the corners; the furniture was full in gold, white and pastel colours, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling majestically lightning the room. 

He kept his mouth closed as the couples were dancing in circle around the big room, the long skirts flowing gracefully.

“Ladies and gentleman, please…” Harry blocked the sound of the man in red uniform talking, as he was only introducing Gellert. Why would you need to introduce their fearful leader, when everyone already trembled at his presence? There couldn’t be a lost soul that didn’t knew who Gellert was. He looked around, wondering where the Hall of Mirrors would be. The Rococo art was as amazing as the professors had talk about, even if only mentioning it as it had to do with the influence and the richness of France. He focused on the people, they all had their eyes on Gellert who was now standing tall and royal-like.

As he kept his speech he made a throne-like chair appear for Harry, it was intricate, had many little details and incrustations of gems. Mostly emeralds. He repress a wince at it. Yes, it was really comfortable. Just as every other chair in the room. 

“It seems as he has this made for you. How thoughtful.” Tom murmurs, barely opening his lips, just loud enough for him to hear. He stiffens a laugh, subtly covering his lips with a finger. Lately, Tom had been more responsive, and he was more than glad. The joy he felt at having a friend who had an opinion (good or bad) was as relaxing and comfortable as taking a deep breath in a deserted land. 

Gellert was gesturing as he talked entrancing everyone with his speech, but he wasn’t remotely interested. He knew what we was saying, about how they were the pillars that hold the magical world, how in their hands landed a bright and joyful future for their descendants, how they had to cean of impurity for Magic to regain is full power in all those brave and powerful wizards. He could caught some parts here and there the part where they get rid of the muggleborns, even if it was hidden behind a “we put a good use to those of our society that don’t fully fit. Those that opposes us, and create a discord between us. Separating us, making us weak.” Gellert had to taunt to ground he walked on whenever he was near in those speeches, but even when he stepped on something, no apologizes would came. He would continue even if Harry was hurt. 

He tilts his head, looking at Tom, wanting to speak to him, knowing that if he did he would be in danger. He sighs internally, his chest barely moving at the action as he tried to be discreet. There was no one to talk to, not even about the weather or the art, heck, he couldn’t even ask for the hour. 

The applauses broke his reverie. Gellert was next to him, his hand in reach, which Harry grabbed and allowed to be moved around the room. His eyes fixed on Gellert’s moves. He was introduce to several more people, royals, in Gellert’s sick mind, murderers and monsters, in Hadrian’s reality.

They moved towards a side of the room that had less people, the guests looking down at the only person in that circle: a short, skinny man, with flawless skin probably concealed under glamours.

“My Lord.” The man bowed deeply. 

“Liang Junhui.” Was all Gellert said, as Harry tilted his head slightly trying to capture again a look of the white and red fox. “What do you have there?” 

“My Lord, this is a gift.” He made a motion towards Harry, who, after a glance at Gellert got a hold of the fox’s leash. Looking down at the fox, fighting against the want to kneel beside him and take the leash off of him, he shared some of his magic, conducted through the leash to calm the creature who was shuffling around, scared, looking for a way out. 

“What is it?”

“Is a Jiǔ wěi hú, my Leader. I’m sure that your…” He paused, “companion would love it. I’ve heard that he is a fan of creatures.” His voice wasn’t pleasant as he said that, making Harry subtly press his thumb on Gellert’s skin. 

“And just how you know that?”

“Hmm? Well, my Lord, he is just that famous around us low tiers.” 

The way those words rolled up out of his mouth was disturbing, he had something that seemed morbid to him. 

Harry ignored it, looking up at Gellert who got the leash from that scrawny man and gave it to Harry, softly, leaning towards him to murmur something to his ear.

“Be patient, my love. I apologize on his behalf.”

“So, you apologize for him, but don’t muster a word about your poor behaviour?” The words were poisonous, but were said in a soft manner, as to not let anyone know it was a complain. He saw the eyes, how the people were trying to eavesdrop, but fearing whatever consequences would come.

“My… poor behaviour?”

“We’ll talk later, Gellert.”

The oh-so-fearful Dark Leader nodded, letting Harry’s whole attention be on the creature. He wanted to kneel besides them, but knew how much it would bemuse Gellert, and how he would probably be hided once again, who know for how long. Any kind of “weakness” could be used to exploit him somehow, not that he wanted to find out. 

The seven tail fox was looking scared, it’s pitiful eyes searching for a way to flee, but there was nothing. He knew there was no way out. Harry asked for a chair, and Gellert guided him to his throne-like chair, where he sat and brought the fox with him, sitting hi, next to his lap in the free space. He puts a hand over its head, almost seeing the warmth of his magic travelling through his fingers, soothing the fair and pain away from him; Harry’s magic was electrifying at first, causing the fox to jump, startled by the connection, as his own core felt the new and sudden intrusion.  _ It’s okay, you are safe.  _ It’s what he wanted his magic to say and seemed to have done it, as the fox got closer, firmly pressing against his lap, hiding it’s poor head on Harry’s side. He looked at Tom, whose whole attention was hastly on a muggleborn that was just kicked to the floor by a pureblood, the group laughing as the girl stood up and taking the fallen tray she quickly escaped from the room. He caressed the uneasy fox, and spent the rest of the night with his eyes firmly the ring placed on his promise finger, heavier than it had ever been.

  
  
  


Tom strolled down the hallway, finally able to return with Harry after a long and boring meeting that the Guardians had with them, warning them that there were some problems with the rebels and were advised to speak of any shady business in the castle. It had been the same every single day for the last 6 weeks, he would be taken away from Harry for several hours, to just listen to this buffoons. He could see the shifty eyes of the other muggleborns, how their eyes, firmly pasted to the floor, shifted on the tiles of the floor, not saying anything, nor feeling. Probably not even thinking.

He was clear of how serious were the things with the rebels lately, how the fighters of the Cause had left the castle empty for many nights as to protect them, Harry had been muttering secrets we shouldn’t be telling the majority about how their Leader was losing control of everything, but this, those unnecessaries and endless meetings would not help in anything, the the rebels muggleborns were not here, were far far away, the ones here too far gone, and too afraid. He blinked, and pushed those thought aside, replacing them with a blank space, void of thoughts. They all look at each other for a second when the guardians finished talking, and parted ways, Tom hurriedly making his way back to Harry. 

He opened the door, and was about to talk when he realized what he stumbled into. He carefully closes it back, face flushing red, fingertips aching for something. For some reason his mind almost appreciated having that image in his head become real, not only speculation. It felt like landing back on the earth in a cruel way. He didn’t knew if he had to stay, or leave and come back in a few minutes. 

What he wanted to do is to separate them, but that was a death wish.

Finally, he scrambles to the other side, looking at the door.

  
  


“I have missed you.” Gellert murmurs to his ear, making a shiver go down his back. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, my love. I have been extremely busy with everything in the Cause. it’s been so long since we were together.” He kisses down his neck. “I’ve missed your warm, your tightness.” Harry still cringes at the way he talked, even when seductive lips were taking his breath away. 

“I… Yes.” 

That was the problem with Gellert. He was disturbingly charming, it almost scared him how much he made him lose sense of reality. 

_ They were talking, simply conversing, Harry trying to get brave. _

_ “I know that you don’t believe in the same things I do, and I respect that. But there’s a difference between ideas and morality. I…” He was shut by lips pressing hard against his. A rough palm pressing on his member, hard, making him whine.  _

_ “You are so sweet, Gem.”  _

_ “I… We need to talk,” he says breathless, but Gellert didn’t mind him, his teeths, instead, bite into his collarbone, and Harry let out a soft protest, his shields shattering apart. He tried to move him away from his neck, but arms wrapped around his body letting him unmobile and trapped. At feeling the teeths gracing all the skin in his neck, he talked in a trembling voice. “I thought you hated leaving marks.” He remarked, knowing that Gellert preferred to surround him with stupid jewelry and too-expensive robes.  _

_ Gellert chuckles on his skin made him trembled. He ran his hands down his flushing body, and growled the words against the side of his neck, “Is a special occasion.”  _

_ “Really?” He gasps for air, making Gellert bite harder on his neck, sucking the tender skin till the whole space went red, some teeths marks starting to show in a purple-ish tint.  _

_ “I have been leaving you alone for so long. You need something to remember.” He sat him on his lap. _

_ “Remember what?” he asks with no air, as Gellert hips started to move. The oh-so-feared leader rutting against him. He tries to move away, to escape, but he knew, even before he was completely surrounded by Gellert’s compressive arms. _

_ “Who you belong to.” Is what he whispers, thrusting his hips upwards harder. Harry was captured by the arms envolving him abstrutiblye, a hand pulling his hair back with a moan, as the other takes what was left of his clothes. _

Oh, how much did he hated that. The overconfident attitude that he brought when it came to being “his”. How did things between them changed so much from how they were at the temple? Why did he changed? Did he do something wrong? 

His mind averted to Tom, just as the intrusion on his body left, Gellert laying smugly on the satin sheets and rested his head on the soft and fluffy pillows, hands travelling across his body feeling how the caresses tainted his soul; Tom, his friend, who was very much possibly waiting for him, as Harry was all the normality he had, all the security. He was being devoured by that all desire and selfish want of having someone, of not being alone anymore, the reason he followed him, but now all of that left him, he was no more scared, and he had no more to stay. 

He thought he could have changed everything, all those years ago, but it was for nothing, they had their fun but it was all for nothing.

He had wanted to save him, to change his future, when he see him appeared broken and battled, with his heart shattered to pieces, he saw it, saw beyond the future monster and promised himself to change, he had ask something of Gellert, something that he knew was hard for him, considering his plans for the Magical World, but he still asked it, and he agreed. He had sweep him to his arms that night, promising that he would follow his every wish. And Harry had believed him.

Why did he broke his promises? When a new person has been so loyal to him, how could Gellert, an old friend, being so...

“Gellert… Please, stop. We need to talk.” He looked at the window, wishing to be anywhere but here. He missed the glint on Gellert’s eyes, grip tightening significantly.

“About what, my Gem?”

“We…” Where should he start? There were so many things to say.  _ You lied to me. You are still killing muggleborns. You are not following anything I warned you about. You are purposely doing this, even knowing i don’t like it. You don’t respect me.  _ “What about muggleborns?” It’s what he settles on saying, not wanting to get emotional with him, knowing how heartless Gellert was.

It took him a second to answer, eyes dancing around his face. “What about them?” 

“You promised they would have a fair life.”

“I didn’t.” He feels his cheeks get warmer, his previously narrowed eyes went wide open. His whole body was shivering but not of pleasure. 

Gellert howls as he is burn by his magic, he backs away from the boy, and Harry moves further away from him, as far of as he possibly could on the queen sized bed. His eyes reflecting a light that wasn’t in the room, a shining light that sparkled the same colour of the killing curse. Dangerous. Murderous.

Gellert forces himself to not scramble back anymore, nerves fluttering on his skin, dazzling through the room, settling next to the room divider, swallowing the want to extend a hand and caress his Gem’s cheek, instead holding the place and pressing where his Gem’s magic had harmed him.

“You did!”

“Don’t raise your voice, my Gem.” Harry forces away a growl, the desire to punch his face growing. He limits to talk softer, tightening his grip on the sheets that covered him.

“You promised.”

“Gem…”

“If you don’t mind your promises, why should I care about us?” He wants to bite his tongue before saying something else. His whole insides were tingling. He was so close to the danger of Gellert’s wrath. His self-preservation, or just common-sense were screaming for him to not talk, for him to stay silent and stay happy with what he is given; happy and comfortable with the security and shelter that Gellert provided him, but... “I want to leave.” He says, voice soft, barely hearable, not more louder than a sigh. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what have you been doing on the isolution thingy? I kept as normal: watching minecraft, musicals and stupid horror games on youtube (especially John Wolfe, check him out if you like horror games, he is cynical and doesn't get scared easily, not a lot of screaming)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Any advice, or comment, or simply anything you want to say feel free to leave a comment, I love to read them!  



End file.
